


Whatever Souls Are Made Of

by straightforwardly



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Incorrectly Convinced That You’re Soulmates, Pre-Canon, Soulmate’s Kiss Can Cure All Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2020-10-04 01:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straightforwardly/pseuds/straightforwardly
Summary: Everyone knows that a soulmate’s kiss heals all wounds. Even the ones no one can see.





	Whatever Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> Back in early 2017, when sign-ups for the first round of soulexchange were running, someone signed-up with Rika/V and among their requested tags were “AU: Soulmate’s Kiss Can Cure All Wounds” and “Incorrectly Convinced That You’re Soulmates”. They actually ended up deleting their sign-up before matching ran, so I don’t know who it was anymore, but regardless, the idea of combining those two scenarios really intrigued me, and I wrote about 350 words of this before suddenly stopping. Ever since then, I would pop open the file for this every so often, but never actually finished writing—until now. I’m pretty happy to have it finally finished, especially since I do find the concept really interesting. 
> 
> Doesn’t take any aspect of V’s route into account, as I haven’t played it.

V wakes to a bending of the mattress, the lifting of the covers. He turns, already knowing who it must be. Only two people have the key to his apartment: only one would come so late at night, and only one would approach him so. 

Rika looks back at him, sitting on her knees at the edge of his bed. One glance, and he already knows it’s one of her bad nights. Her eyes are glassy; her breath comes out quick and harsh. Her fingers clench at the sheets, grasping at nothing. The shadows of his blinds cut across her face, highlighting her gasping mouth.

“V,” she says. Begs. “I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s too much. _V_.”

“I’m here.” He sits up, his voice rough with sleep. He sets his hand against her cheek. “Rika, Rika. I’m here.”

“Yes,” she breathes. Her hands wrap around his wrist; her nails bite into his skin. “You have to heal me. Hurry, V.”

“I’ll fix you,” he promises, and draws her to him. He kisses her forehead, the curve of her eyebrows, the corner of her teary eyes, her open mouth. She trembles, unmoving, in his arms. 

In the stories, the soulmate’s kiss has always been an instant cure, but it’s never been so with Rika. He doesn’t know if it’s because Rika’s wounds run just that deep, or if the stories simply were exaggerated. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s learned the way of it by now: how to kiss her, how to hold her, how to touch her, until she comes back to herself. How to heal her, as a soulmate should.

“V,” she says, and then again, as though his name is the only thing she can say. “V.”

“I’ll fix you,” he repeats. His hands slide up to cup her face and he kisses her again, deeply. It’s a little like kissing a doll: her head tilts back, yielding to his movement, but she doesn’t respond. Her breath shudders through her chest and he kisses her until she finally begins to respond, her fingers clenching tentatively at his shoulder.

V breaks the kiss only long enough to reach for the hem of her dress and tug it over her head, and then his mouth is on hers again, kissing her, kissing her, kissing so deeply, healing her in the way only soulmates can heal. He trails his kisses down her throat, down the valley between her breasts, over her belly. He kisses her until she’s moaning under him, until his name truly is the only thing she can say. Until she’s finally healed. 

After, V curls up besides her. And though gentle tremors still run through Rika’s body, when she finally raises her head to look at him, her eyes are her own again.


End file.
